It looks closed from outside, I thought, or like a private underground swingers sex club. The windows are blacked out so you can’t see inside.
I wondered for the first time if I would be stricken with anxiety once inside. In my enthusiasm I had neglected to consider the possibility when agreeing to the reservation.
Mary and I were greeted by cheerful staff in the fully lit lobby/bar area.
“There is a coat rack for your jackets and the rest of your belongings can go in a locker right there behind you.”
Yeay lockers! Hands free in the event that I should lose my balance… or need to flail them in state of utter panic.
We placed our orders before entering the dining room.
We were greeted by a blind waiter who instructed us to place a hand on his left shoulder and form a train this way.
I placed a hand on Mary’s left shoulder and possibly my other hand on her other shoulder… or wrapped around her waist. Or maybe that was my legs. It’s a little foggy…
We were led through a door and a black curtain into the absolute dark.
I was relieved by all the chatter, laughter and slinking and clanking of glasses and utensils.
On the way to our table the waiter inquired as to whether or not we need to use the washroom before seating us side by side.
We could hear another couple across from us so naturally I kicked a foot out in front of me to see if they were at the same table.
Why ask when you can maim and judge distance by the volume of one’s cries of pain?
But instead a voice quiet suddenly instructed from somewhere just above my right shoulder:
“In front of you there is a place mat. To the right a knife. Just above your knife is where I placed your water. On the left side of your place mat is a napkin. Next to that your forks and just above your forks your glass of wine. If you need anything just call my name. It’s Mathieu.”
I felt my table up like a nervous teenager fumbling hesitantly for a button or a zipper… or a bra clasp.
“And here are your appetizers ladies”
But nothing visibly appeared before me.
Me: “Getting a bit of an Emperor’s New Clothes vibe here…”
I’m not going to lie. While Mary stabbed the empty areas of her plate with her fork, I groped my tomato mille feuille, shovelled what I could onto my fork with my fingers and ate the rest of it with my hands.
Voice in the dark: “Does anyone need to use the bathroom before sitting down?”
Mary: “We’re fine thank you!”
Me: “I don’t think he was talking to us… I think it’s a pre-seating ritual or something…”
Conversation feels different in the pitch black. For a few reasons. One of which being that you can’t count on facial expressions or body language to ornament your vocabulary.
Mathieu:Would you care for desert ladies?
Mary:I would, I’ll have the cake please. Jen? Desert?
. . . .
Mary: “I can’ tell if she’s nodding can you?”
Mathieu: . . . .
Me: “Oh! I am! I’m nodding. Yes please. I’ll have the sorbet”
There were chunks of fruit in the sorbet that I couldn’t recognize, despite dissecting it with tongue, my teeth, my fingers and calling on all of my senses. It was amazing because the taste and textures were bringing back memories that I couldn’t quite identify. It was strong enough that I knew that I had eaten this fruit many times but couldn’t for the life of me name it.
There were sounds to get used to in the room, like the melodic droning of the word attention (in french), which I assume is called by waiters carrying food but it was quiet and strangely soothing.
One sound or sight that was missing, much to my elation, was that of cell phones, as they are strictly forbidden in the dining room, as are any other objects that might give off any light.
While there where certainly adjustments to be made, after about 20 minutes I had forgotten almost entirely that we were in the dark.
Me: “I know it’s silly but I really want to tell the waiter that I need to go to the bathroom. . Not that I have to, just that I want to see what it’s like.”
A few minutes later Mathieu (bless him) was leading our mini-train to the dimly lit ladies room.
I was secretly hoping it would be black in there too but I imagine it wouldn’t be worth the potential panic (or the clean-up) of some of the customers.
The food was tasty and energy in the room really cozy. In fact, Mary and I both regretted leaving so quickly after we had finished eating and wondered why we had.
Next time (and there will definitely be a next time) I’ll stay for at least another glass of wine.
If you haven’t had the O Noir experience, I enthusiastically urge you to go.
